cross-roads. There I
found a staff-car that had some petrol to spare. It was now very hot, so
I had a bit of a sleep on the dusty grass by the side of the road, then
sat up to watch lazily the 2nd Corps pass.
The troops were quite cheerful and on the whole marching well. There
were a large number of stragglers, but the majority of them were not
men who had fallen out, but men who had become separated from their
battalions at Le Cateau. A good many were badly footsore. These were
being crowded into lorries and cars.
There was one solitary desolate figure. He was evidently a reservist, a
feeble little man of about forty, with three days' growth on his chin.
He was very, very tired, but was struggling along with an unconquerable
spirit. I gave him a little bit of chocolate I had; but he wouldn't stop
to eat it. "I can't stop. If I does, I shall never get there." So he
chewed it, half-choking, as he stumbled along. I went a few paces after
him. Then Captain Dillon came up, stopped us, and put the poor fellow in
a staff-car and sent him along a few miles in solitary grandeur, more
nervous than comfortable.
Eventually the company came along and I joined. Two miles farther we
came to a biggish town with white houses that simply glared with
heat.[9] My water-bottle was empty, so I humbly approached a good lady
who was doling out cider and water at her cottage door. It did taste
good! A little farther on I gave up my bicycle to Spuggy, who was riding
in the cable-cart.
We jolted along at about two miles an hour. For some time two spies
under escort walked beside the limber. Unlike most spies they looked
their part. One was tall and thin and handsome. The other was short and
fat and ugly. The fear of death was on their faces, and the jeers of our
men died in their mouths. They were marched along for two days until a
Court could be convened. Then they were shot.
Just before Noyon we turned off to the left and halted for half an hour
at Landrimont, a little village full of big trees. We had omelettes and
coffee at the inn, then basked in the sun and smoked. Noyon was
unattractive. The people did not seem to care what happened to anybody.
Perhaps we thought that, because we were very tired. Outside Noyon I
dozed, then went off to sleep.
When I awoke it was quite dark, and the column had halted. The order
came for all except the drivers to dismount and proceed on foot. The
bridge ahead was considered unsafe, so waggons w
|